Unwanted
by All The Good Names Taken
Summary: He did what he wanted. But the pain came anyway. .:Klaine/Kurtofsky:. ON HIATUS.
1. Brought me down upon my knees, oh, I beg

**Unwanted**

It was Friday evening when it happened.

The sky was a soggy grey, a thick blanket over the earth, making everything feel stuffy and damp. Everything seemed colourless and quiet on the tree-lined street. Kurt was walking to the bus from Dalton, his bag packed for his weekend at home. He breathed in the November air and sighed. He was beginning to feel better, much better. The fear was slowly leaving him, melting away each day like ice in a spring breeze. For the first time since the wedding, Kurt was beginning to feel _happy._

The bus jerked and bumped along the road. Bare, black trees and houses flashed by as Kurt watched the world from behind the window. Blaine really was a blessing. Dalton would be so difficult without him. But he was hopeful. Dalton would become just as good a home as McKinley._ Better. _Dalton would become better. Because when you were at home, you didn't jump every time you saw a red jacket from the corner of your eye.

Groaning to a stop, the bus jolted Kurt forward. His smiled to himself as he stepped onto the familiar road that led to the cul-de-sac where he lived. The trees here had more leaves, albeit only barely. They contrasted against the granite sky, with speckled yellow and burnt green. Kurt started walking down towards his home, humming the Warblers new addition to the set-list under his breath.

Then Kurt saw him.

He was leaning against a tree in the green just before the cul-de-sac. His large form was curtained in the shadow of the evening's tree. The world suddenly seemed so much smaller as Kurt became painfully aware of how open he was. He started to turn, but it was too late.

'What's up, Hummel?'

The world stopped.

Kurt's blood froze in his veins as Karofsky pushed himself away from the tree. He walked towards him, each step seeming to take forever, but Kurt felt himself unable to move. His voice erupted from him in a limp pile of words;

'Just_ stop_ it, Karofsky. I kept your secret!'

The hockey player stopped just inches from Kurt, and all he wanted to do was shove Karofsky away, put more and more distance between them.

'What about your _boyfriend_? Didn't keep it so "_secret"_ with him.'

Kurt felt the world beneath him vanish. He fell further and further, nothing to hold on to. Nothing to save himself.

And Karofsky _knew. _

He took the last few inches from Kurt as he stepped closer. Kurt automatically moved backwards, but Karofsky snatched his wrist and threw him.

_'STOP-!'_

Kurt hit the grass with a dull thud, his bag falling feet from him. He had landed to the left of the bushes, hiding him from view. Dread poured into him as Karofsky rounded the wall of leaves and looked down on him.

'STOP! Please, I didn't think-'

The grass appeared to be wrapping itself around Kurt's fingers, trapping him between the winter's frosted earth and Karofsky.

'Exactly!' Karofsky's voice was harsh, and uneven. He sounded furious. Manic. 'You don't think! Do you, Hummel? You just think you can prance around the way you do?'

Kurt gaped, unable to respond. The silence seemed to irk Karofsky even further. He grabbed Kurt by his lapels and lunged him to the side. Kurt struck a tree with a sickening crunch. Tears sprung to his eyes as he felt his skin become tender as he slid down the tree's bumped and unequal surface.

'You can be as homo as you like, but keep it out of my face!'

'How can I do that anymore than I already am?' Kurt shouted, climbing to his feet and leaning against the tree, his voice ringing in the evening quiet. 'I moved! I'm not _in your school_, I'm not even here all week! How can I do anym-'

'Just shut your face, faggot!'

Karofsky's fist hit Kurt's stomach hard. Kurt felt his breath being robbed from his lungs as the impact doubled him. Karofsky made a strange whimper as Kurt fell to his knees, but Kurt could not focus. He felt sick from the force of the punch.

_'Just shut your face!' _Karofsky growled, low and terrifying. Kurt felt two hot tears stream down his nose onto the grass.

Suddenly, Karofsky's hand was in Kurt's hair. His fingers trailed through his carefully tailored locks, softly and almost as though he was savouring the feel. Kurt closed his eyes and desperately tried not to think about what was happening. He tried hard to block Karofsky's touch, to stop his skin from screaming out in protest.

'Stop...'

The word escaped as a mere whisper, not even voiced. Merely breathed. But Karofsky heard.

'What, fag?'

'I said, stop,' Kurt replied, his voice coming out stronger, sounding more like the Kurt from earlier. The Kurt who was beyond this. He lifted his head to looked Karofsky in the eye from his knees. His stomach still ached and Karofsky's hand was still entangled in his hair.

_'I don't want you touching me.' _

Karofsky's face flashed and Kurt yelped as his grip clamped so tightly it felt as though he was going to rip his head clean from his body. With an almighty thrust, Kurt's face hit the grass hard. Kurt tasted blood.

'You kissed _me!_' Karofsky hissed. Kurt whimpered as his abuser pushed down on his face. 'You kissed me, and now you say you don't want _me_ touching_ you?_' He was mocking him and Kurt whined like a wounded dog into the earth.

'P-please... s-stop...'

Karofsky pulled Kurt up so he was kneeling before him. Kurt wished he could wipe the tears from his face, to clear the blood from his bottom lip... But he couldn't move. His arms hung limp and useless by his side as Karofsky tightened his grip on his hair.

'_You _kissed _me_,' Karofsky whispered, anger pouring out of each syllable and hitting Kurt in waves. Each one shaking him to the core.

'I didn't...' Kurt's plea was responded to with a harsh yank and his head made contact with the tree behind him once more.

'Say it.'

The command stood between them, large and horrifying. Kurt sobbed as Karofsky's face drew nearer to his. There was nowhere to run, no one to help. Karofsky's other hand trailed down from Kurt's neck to his chest. Kurt winced from the touch, trying to get away.

Karofsky's touch was _unwanted. _Every part of Kurt screamed for him to stop.

But still it did not end.

'Admit it!' Karofsky yelled. Kurt cried out in fear.

'But I didn't! I didn't! You-!'

'SAY IT!' The words hit Kurt with a fear he had never experienced. Tears were running uncontrollably down his face. He could feel the throbbing before it came as Karofsky thrashed him further into the tree.

Kurt opened his mouth in a gasp, and tried to stop his voice from quavering. If he could only stop crying for one second...

'I-I kissed you. _I kissed you!' _

The words explode from Kurt as Karofsky pulled away, releasing him, a dazed smile upon his face.

'There! I said it! Are you happy?' Kurt cried from the ground. Karofsky's smile broadened as he reached into his pocket. Kurt felt the fear return and his anger subside. The silver flashed in the failing sun.

Kurt started crying once more, pushing back, wishing to simply become the tree and hide beneath a wall of strong bark. He did what he had wanted. He said it. _He said it! _He did what he wanted!

But the pain came anyway.

* * *

Kurt came in through the back-door, hoping no one had heard him. He left his bag by the kitchen table, had a quick pause to get something from the medicine cabinet and crept out into the hall. The mumbling of voices from the television and laughing carried dully throughout the hallway from the close living room door. Kurt leaned against the wall and breathed in the smell of home. Of wood and pancakes.

After taking many small steps into the hall, Kurt opened the door that led to his room in the basement. Careful to shut the door as quietly as possible, Kurt turned and walked down the stairs, praying to the God he didn't believe in that Finn wasn't there.

The room was empty. Finn's camp-bed was in the same crumpled state it had always been in whenever Kurt returned for the weekend. Finn was avoiding him. He was angry Kurt had been so cowardly and fled. But Finn didn't know. He didn't understand.

Kurt cleaned his arm carefully, wincing when he applied the disinfectant. The bleeding had finally stopped. He had lain there, in the damp and cold grass, for half an hour. Crying and clutching onto the wound. It was relieving to see that some of the horror had stopped.

After cleaning and moisturising his face, Kurt dumped his grass-stained clothes in the hamper and quickly changed into his emergency outfit which he always kept hanging in his closet. He took great care in buttoning up his Armani vest, focusing on each individual silk button. When finally satisfied, Kurt took a deep breath, gave his hair one final tweak and then headed back up the stairs.

* * *

'Kurt! We didn't hear you come in!'

Burt got up from his seat in the armchair and walked over to greet his son. Kurt clung on tightly as his father held him, blinking his eyes into Burt's chequered shirt to hide his tears. Burt pulled away, grinning happily.

'So? How was your third week in Dalton? Still holding up?'

'It's wonderful, Dad. We're doing this great thing in the Warblers right now,' Kurt replied, applying just the right amount of enthusiasm to not seem suspicious. He looked behind his father. 'Hey, Carole! How're you? I am _loving_ the dark denim, by the way. Very flattering!'

The evening passed slowly and warmly as Kurt laughed and talked with his new family, (except for Finn, who was conveniently out at a late showing at the cinema with Rachel). When the clock finally read half past eleven, Kurt called it a night and bid his parents goodnight.

* * *

Kurt sank into the cleanliness of his white sheets. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the events of that evening. But Karofsky's voice echoed in his head like some horrible nightmare. Kurt was not sure how long he had been there, curled into a ball on his side, trying to burrow further into his bed, but he guessed at least an hour as he heard Finn enter the room with quiet footsteps.

Kurt lay in his bed, tears rolling silently down the curves and drops of his face, listening to his step-brother put on his pyjamas and climb into his squeaking bed. Kurt bit his fist to subdue a sob as he thought of the morning, where by the time he woke up, Finn would be gone.

He wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him so much.

But Finn didn't want to hear.

Kurt weeped silently into his fingers, before composing himself. He pulled his arm before him, and rolled up the sleeve tenderly.

The skin was scorched pink and the cuts had become a crusty red. Kurt read the word over and over, the label that Karofsky had slit into his skin.

_Fag. _


	2. You're not allowed, you're unvitied

Kurt was woken up by the squeaking of Finn's bed as he got up. The room was still dark, but a soft glow emanated from the mood lamp that Finn switched on as he shuffled over to the en suite. Kurt swallowed slowly, his heart feeling strangled in his chest. Would Finn be angry if he were to turn around and talk to him? Would he even respond?

There was the distant sound of the tap running as Finn got himself some water. Kurt rolled onto his back. His arm stung dully as the Egyptian cotton of his pyjamas brushed against it. He closed his eyes as Karofsky's face flashed before him. Dark and terrifying. Kurt tried to close him out of his mind. Tried to get the taste of him out his mouth, the fear out of his blood and the touch out of his skin. But Karofsky was within him, like a hideous cancer. And Kurt couldn't escape him.

Finn re-entered the room and walked towards the lamp, but Kurt spoke quietly;

'Can you leave it on? Please?'

The sounds of Finn moving stopped. Hurt stabbed Kurt when Finn said nothing, but he sniffed bravely, turning back onto his side and pretending to fall back asleep. Finn started back towards his bed. It creaked loudly in protest as Finn climbed back into it. Kurt stared determinedly at the wall in front of him, trying to made his head stop throbbing where the tree had hit him.

Finn moved around on his bed, squeaking and squealing beneath him. When the room finally fell silent again, Kurt breathed in deeply and spoke to the silent wall before him.

'Finn? Can I ask you something?'

At first there was no reply, and Kurt began to think Finn wouldn't respond at all, until finally his step-brother's voice came from behind him, wrapping itself around him like a blanket.

'It's like three am, dude. What is it?'

'Do you remember last year, when you first came to this house. When I did up this room,' Kurt started before pausing as his voice threatened to crumble beneath the words. There was silence for a moment and Kurt struggled to put all the words together like bricks.

'Yeah...' Finn's voice dragged a little. He was wary of what was coming next.

'When you called me a fag, did you mean it?'

The question seemed to stun the whole room into silence. Even the string within Kurt's blankets seemed to tighten as though holding their breaths. Finn didn't answer, but his bed spoke to the room in a high pitched squeak as he turned to face Kurt's back.

'No, I didn't. I really didn't.' Kurt felt like his heart would shatter like glass. He pulled his sleeve up and read the word again. New tears prickled his eyes as he looked at the ugly, clumsy marks.

'I just wanted to know,' Kurt whispered, wondering if Finn had heard him. By the sound of his bed crying out in relief as Finn got up from it, he had.

'Dude, what's this about?' Kurt sat up and faced Finn. His step-brother's hair was a tumble of brown tufts, all messed up and straggly and made him look vaguely like a puppy. Kurt smiled softly, hoping the dark was enough to hide how he shifted his weight to his left side.

'Nothing, I just think too much,' Kurt said, his voice warm yet somewhat aloof. Finn's face creased like paper into a firm line of concern.

'Why did you want to know that, Kurt? You know I'd never say that, not like- well, you know what I mean,' Finn replied, stuttering slightly. Kurt nodded his head, never losing his smile. Finn was watching him carefully. He had a pained look on his face like every cell in his brain was completely focused on reading him. Sadly though, Finn's brain was not the greatest anyway and judging by the slightly absent look he was gaining his eye, the cells were slowing down and getting confused.

'Don't worry about it, Finn,' Kurt said, carefully lying himself back down onto his back. Finn seemed to wait a few moments before clambering back into his bed. 'Don't worry about it.'

* * *

Rachel, talented as she was annoying, had agreed to help him with his solo for the Warblers. It was their third meeting since he had first approached her and he was slowly beginning to enjoy her company. (Much as it killed him to look at her with her steadily-growing-more-hideous sweaters and skirts so long and pleated they looked as though she had merely wrapped her duvet around her waist).

Since leaving McKinley, Rachel was becoming more and more bearable. Probably because the threat they had felt with each other in glee-club had passed, and now they were simply two extraordinarily talented people able to go to lunch without thinking about beating the other. It was strangely relieving and having lunch with Rachel Berry was beginning to become a bit of a guilty pleasure.

The mall was crowded as people moved around them, couples surrounding them and mothers shopping. Children whining and students from McKinley wandering around aimlessly. Kurt found it hard to believe that he had once been part of that community. Well, maybe on paper, but Kurt never truly felt like he belonged there. His heart stopped when he saw a flash of red, but relief gushed out of him as a nameless Cheerio walked by. Smiling to himself and blocking his mind, Kurt returned to his conversation.

'So, anyway, there we are all, sitting down in the common room and sipping our iced-mocha lattes, when suddenly Wes says; "Silver? I thought Dorothy's shoes were red!"' Kurt exclaimed, much to the hilarity of Rachel, who snorted into her smoothie.

'That is just plain worrying!' she replied, a smile stretching across her face. Kurt laughed lightly pausing only to sip his own low-fat soya milkshake. 'How on earth did you reply to something so drastically wrong and insulting?'

'Well, Blaine and I were in tears- naturally,' Kurt added snidely, to which Rachel responded with a crisp nod. 'And we simply asked did he think Glinda was the Witch of the North, too! I've never seen someone with such a dark complexion blush, but it was too good an opportunity to give up on!'

Rachel laughed as Kurt continued his enthralling stories of his classmates, whose ignorance of classic musicals every star should know was incredibly perturbing. Kurt began to feel lighter, his initial fear at seeing the McKinley red beginning to pass. He was even beginning to forget about his arm, too. Lifting his cup for another sip, Kurt realised he had finished his milkshake.

'I'll be right back, I need to top myself up,' he said, producing the empty cup with a twist of the wrist. 'I really need more soya in my diet, anymore indulgences and my cholesterol will be through the roof!' Rachel gave him her _'I'm Going to be a Star'_ smile. Big and full of teeth.

Getting up from his seat, he passed by the other tables back to the café's counter. The girl behind it turned and smiled widely at him while he requested his milkshake. He took the change from her and slipped it into his blazer pocket, careful to fold the flap back over. Appearance was everything.

Kurt froze as he felt the hand on his shoulder. Thick fingers with a large palm, feeling too hot against his jacket's shoulder. Kurt swallowed thickly and turned to look Karofsky in the face. Karofsky's face was twisted into a strange look of anger and something else Kurt couldn't quite place. His gut lurched as Kurt felt as though his stomach had been punched again. His grip on the counter tightened as Karofsky's hand slid slowly down Kurt's chest. Something that no one else would notice suddenly felt so severe and so invading that Kurt wanted to hit him. Slap him, right across his puffed out, sweaty face.

'Nice to see you, _Kurt.' _Kurt flinched as Karofsky used his name. Karofsky seemed to elicit some kind of pleasure from it, each letter dripping with something Kurt couldn't understand. Kurt took a step back from Karofsky, standing up straight to make himself seem bigger. Saying Kurt's name that way, that intimate, friendly way, was a privilege uninvited to Karofsky.

'Here's your milkshake,' the counter-girl said with a trademark smile, placing the cup on the counter.

'Thanks,' Kurt muttered. He reached to take it, but Karofsky was too quick. He smiled at Kurt and took a sip from his cup. Kurt shuddered as watched his lips touch the plastic rim, reminding him of what Karofsky had _taken_ from him.

'Still want it, homo?'

Karofsky laughed and walked away, leaving Kurt standing, petrified against the counter. His arm was stinging as though Karofsky was salt to the wound. Like his mere presence had ignited it into some sort of fierce fire. Kurt clutched his arm softly, trying to will the pain away. Trying to forget what was carved into his skin.

When he sat down next to Rachel, her immediate question was where had his milkshake gone. Kurt spun some lie that he was worried about fitting into his twilight-grey skinnies and had simply taken so long because the girl behind the counter had asked about what conditioner he used. Rachel ate it all up, because in the end, Rachel Berry only cared for Rachel Berry. Kurt would just have to give up on trying to tell someone, and start focusing on himself, on dealing with it himself.

Just like everyone else expected him to.

* * *

'Kurt?'

Kurt started at the voice, dropping the CD he was holding. It hit the shop floor with a clatter of plastic and Mr. Schuester bent down to pick it up. Kurt tried to calm his heart as it pounded against chest, the fear clinging to him like tightly wrapped tendrils. Mr. Schuester handed Kurt the CD, (_Broadway Classics of the 1940's)_, his eyes alight with some sort of relief.

'It's good to see you,' his old teacher said, his voice soft and welcoming. Kurt took the CD with a trembling hand.

'I'm only here for a short while. You know, back for the weekend,' Kurt replied, running his fingers across the edge of the case. Mr. Schuester smiled at Kurt and Kurt felt something stir in him. A kind of guilt, weighing down inside his bruised stomach.

'So, tell me! How've you been? Dalton everything you expected?' Kurt swallowed slowly before answering.

'Better,' he replied with a smile. Mr. Schuester grinned and Kurt tried to slip his arm behind his back carefully.

'I'm glad,' Mr Schuester said, but he seemed to be holding back. Something was staring at Kurt from behind his eyes that made him feel uneasy. Kurt shifted uncomfortably, trying to shake off his teacher's gaze. 'Listen, Kurt. There was actually something I wanted to say to you.'

Kurt stood up a little straighter and tightened his fingers into a fist behind his back and his arm stung anew. Mr. Schuester reached out and held onto Kurt's shoulder.

'I'd like to apologise, I wish there was something more I could've done for you.'

'There's nothing you could've done,' Kurt said, his voice sounded heavier than expected. Mr. Schuester moved as though steeling himself.

'As your teacher, there should've been,' he said gravely, and Kurt suddenly thought the exact same.

There should've been, but there wasn't.

'Mr. Schu, can I ask you something?'

Mr. Schuester seemed to brighten up as Kurt spoke, almost as though by changing the subject Kurt had forgiven him. He pulled away from Kurt and a huge relief flooded through Kurt when the contact had ceased. He composed himself a little before asking.

'If Karofsky had done something to me, something bad.' The words were slow, careful not to give anything away. 'What could the school have done about it?'

The atmosphere between them suddenly changed, and Mr. Schuester straightened up and crossed his arms, his eyes giving Kurt the impression he could see right through him to the scars on his right arm.

'Kurt.' Mr. Schuester said his name in a strange tone, one not dissimilar to the one had had back in Sylvester's office last month. 'Did you he do something to you?'

Yes.

'No,' Kurt said, dismissing the question as though it was beneath him. 'He was a mindless Neanderthal, and made me miserable. But no, he didn't physically hurt me.' Kurt felt something growl within him. 'Or at least, not enough for the school board.' The addition was bitter and he thought he saw Mr. Schuester reach out, but when he looked again, his arms remained crossed.

'Kurt, is there something you haven't said? Something you didn't tell me, or Coach Sylvester?'

Kurt looked the teacher straight in the eyes. He traced every crease of the man's face and the way his mouth was tight as though sewn together.

'No.'

* * *

'NO!'

Kurt shot up, cold sweat clinging to his back. Panting heavily, he rubbed his face of moisture, his pyjamas feeling too tight and damp against his skin. Finn fell out of his bed at the cry, hitting the floor dully.

'What? What happened? Where is he? I'll get him!'

Finn's sleepy threats sounded muffled as Karofsky's face flared inside Kurt's head. Kurt tried to calm down. _It was just a dream, just a dream. _But it wasn't. It was a memory. A terrifying, twisted memory of what Karofsky had done. Kurt could not rid his mouth of the taste. Karofsky's mouth had been on his, drowning him like some sort of monster from the deep parts of the world. His ears rang with the screaming his body gave at the unwanted touch. _It __was just a dream. _

But the weak crimson of his injuries shone brilliant and horrifying in pale light of the mood lamp.

Finn stumbled to his feet, rubbing his eyes. 'Kurt, what the Hell?'

'It's nothing, Finn,' Kurt said. Was that really his voice? That soft, quiet moan? Finn shuffled over to Kurt's bed. He reached out, his hand touching Kurt's shoulder softly, more a whisper than a touch. Kurt winced away from it, his arm raising up to push Finn away.

'Kurt!'

Kurt cried out as Finn grabbed his right arm, the skin tender and stinging. He wrenched himself away from Finn, clambering back against the wall.

'Dude, what the _was_ that?' Finn suddenly sounded more awake, as he reached over again. But Kurt refused to move, refused to unwind himself.

'It's _nothing,_ Finn,' Kurt repeated, making the words sound forceful and stronger than the voice saying them. Finn gave Kurt the quizzical look he gave everyone when they said something he struggled to understand. Not unlike the continuous expression he had in language classes.

'What the Hell is wrong with your arm?'

'Nothing, it's just a scratch. It's my own fault really, wearing my short-sleeves,' Kurt said, mentioning clothing as a way of losing Finn's interest. But still his step-brother still didn't look away, eyeing Kurt's arm as though trying to read a particularly hard French paragraph. Kurt automatically pulled the sleeve down further. 'Go back to sleep.'

Finn seemed to be fighting an internal battle with himself before turning away and getting back into his clanking bed. Kurt wiped his face once more with the sleeve of his pyjamas. The fabric rolled up and _Fag_ stared Kurt in the face. Tears rolled silently down his cheek as he slid back under the covers, wondering if the cuts would leave a scar.

**Thanks for all the wonderful, positive reviews I received. I'm sorry this chapter wasn't very exciting, but I was exploring a bit with the characters. :)**


	3. So worn from talking this much

May had blown in, full of rain and fresh grass. Blaine's words washed over Kurt as the boy addressed the Warblers. Kurt's lip still felt warm from where Blaine had kissed him before entering the room, like a ghost whispering so close you could taste it's voice. But he could not seem to concentrate on Blaine, or what he was saying. Instead he watched the newly adorned trees dance in a silent song behind the window.

'So, what do you think, Kurt?'

Kurt turned to look at Blaine. The boys olive-skinned face was alight with a new idea, his eyes burning. Something stirred within Kurt as he looked at him, something deep within his stomach. He smiled and answered with only the smallest hesitation;

'It's a wonderful idea,' he said, the words falling limply and piling up on the floor. Blaine raised his dark eyes-brows. Kurt felt his stomach twist again. It was... unpleasant. He swallowed before continuing, 'Just do what you think is best.'

'Right, then,' the council announced. 'Let's hear more ideas on an appropriate song for St. John's. The nurses say the diabetics are getting extra touchy since they deemed too old to climb through windows for-'

Kurt shifted to his right, when Blaine joined him on the window ledge. He watched him closely, his brown eyes swirling with emotion. Chocolate oil on hazelnut water. Kurt pulled self-consciously at his sleeve. The marks had almost faded now, but you could still read it. Still _feel _it.

'Kurt, are you alright?' Blaine's words were delicate and light against Kurt's ears. Kurt sighed and fell onto Blaine's shoulder. Blaine, for the slightest moment, stiffened beneath him, but quickly relaxed. He didn't do public displays of affection. _Or at least, not in front of the Warblers, _Kurt thought bitterly.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing, just a little homesick,' Kurt said into Blaine's neck. He didn't need to explain that any further, he knew Blaine understood. He knew how much New Directions had meant. The familiar unpleasant feeling swelled within Kurt again. The word burned on his arm, as though it were still bleeding fresh onto Blaine's lap.

'Is something bothering you? Something more than-?'

'No,' Kurt said curtly, his patience of the question finally wearing thin. He pulled away from Blaine, staring determinedly away from him. Blaine reached out, placing his arm around Kurt, trying to pull him closer.

'Kurt, you've been really uptight since the benefit, there's got to be someth-'

'You know what, Blaine, why don't you just back-off!' Kurt snapped venomously, cutting across Blaine again. His eyes flashed like glass caught in blazing sunshine, throwing Kurt's bitter words back at him.

Blaine started at the outburst, the room around them fell silent. Kurt leapt from his seat. Anger suddenly revealed itself, big and growling within Kurt like a monster. Kurt was furious. It was all Blaine's fault! If the boy had simply kept his bloody advice to himself, Kurt would never have followed Karofsky into that locker room, would never have screamed at him, would never have felt the boys lips crash against his own. Then Karofsky wouldn't have come after him, wouldn't have pulled that knife-

A feeling of nausea washed over him at the memory.

'Why don't you just keep your nose out of it!' Kurt snarled. Blaine's face sank with something Kurt didn't care to identify. 'Why don't you just stop trying to get inside my head all the time!'

'Kurt-' Blaine's words were so careful, but they broke through Kurt like a brick through glass.

'I've got to go,' Kurt said coldly. Blaine opened his mouth to speak once more, but Kurt had left before he could. His blood boiled inside of his veins, his heart beating fast.

'Kurt! Come back! _Kurt!_'

Kurt didn't go back.

* * *

The ashen sky was burning from it's edges like paper as the sun set, pouring shadows across the ground. Kurt turned the volume on his iPhone up louder as a couple of boys walked past him nosily. Breathing heavily, Kurt tried to ignore the guilt that was beginning to build up inside of him. He hadn't meant to shout at Blaine like that, hadn't meant to blame him. Something inside him just... snapped.

Kurt tightened his hands into fists as he thought of Karofsky. The mix of fear and anger swirled sickly in his stomach. He missed Blaine. It had been nearly two hours since rehearsal, and he hadn't heard anything. His phone had remained stubbornly silent; he could feel Blaine's indifference radiating from it. Kurt sighed and paused his music, and started to type;

_Where are you? We need to talk. X _

His finger trembled over _SEND_. It shouldn't be this hard. Something squirmed inside him once more, he closed his eyes and saw Karofsky. He felt his taste overwhelming Blaine on his lips and Kurt felt his eyes sting. He opened his eyes, his finger moved away and the words vanished.

_Blaine, I'm in the common room. Please come. _

Kurt pressed his finger to cold surface and watched the pop-up bounce as the words flew. He took his time wrapping his earphones around his iPhone, and slipped it into his pocket. He stared at the daunting, red-brick building that was Dalton. It still didn't feel right. It still didn't _fit. _

But it didn't have a Karofsky. It had Blaine. Wonderful, kind, amazing, Blaine.

"My Blaine," Kurt whispered softly to himself, before standing up and heading in towards the common room.

* * *

Wes and David were sitting on the leather couch in front of the window. Kurt was half-tempted to turn back when he saw the common room wasn't empty, but Blaine came first.

_Blaine comes first. _

Kurt walked in bravely and sat down in one of the twined arm-chairs in the corner of the room, withdrew his French notebook, and started his _journal intime_. He could feel their eyes follow him, and something filled the room. Thicker than air, lighter than water, making it just thin enough to breathe. Kurt swallowed thickly and his lungs felt like lead in his chest. He heard the scrape of leather as one of the two arose.

'Kurt?'

He turned to Wes, who's dark eyes were stuttering. He stood before Kurt, his v-neck so well aligned with his tie that Kurt suspected the use of a compass.

'Yes?'

'Um, is everything okay? Between you and Blaine, that is. I mean, we can't have spectacles like earlier today when we perform in the nursing home-'

'We're fine, thank you,' Kurt dismissed harshly. Wes bit his lip, his brow folding like clay. Behind him, David shuffled in his seat. Kurt returned his gaze to his work.

'It's just that- I mean, earlier, you two seemed to be... well-'

'If you have something to say, _say it.'_

Wes looked startled by Kurt's tone. Even Kurt himself was surprised. The words were low, barely audible, but they sunk massively in the air, landing on the floor so heavily you could almost hear them due to the silence.

'Kurt?'

The name. _His name. _

Kurt jumped to see Blaine standing in the doorway. His phone was glowing in his hand and his face was unreadable. Not angry, not mean, just...

Absent.

His eyes didn't flit once from Kurt and suddenly he felt a deep clench in his chest. Kurt rose from his chair and launched himself at Blaine. His arms snaked around his waist, just as they were so accustomed to doing, knowing the way so well. He pressed himself into Blaine's chest, heard his heart beat quickly pound beneath him, like it always did when Kurt was this close. He gave a sob, but buried it into Blaine's blazer.

There was no hesitation this time. Wes and David didn't matter. Blaine's arms were around Kurt the moment his skin brushed the fabric of him. Kurt breathed in him like he would suffocate without him.

'I'm here.' His words wrapped themselves around Kurt and he let himself fall into them.

'I missed you,' Kurt choked. Blaine tightened his grip on him. He smelled of soap and paper. The smell Kurt fell in love with. The shirt he wore to bed every night. Kurt looked up at Blaine and suddenly his face was open and full of unsaid words. Scribbled across his eyes and lips like newspaper print.

Blaine leaned down and kissed Kurt. His lips were soft, and slow. So very slow. Every cell in Kurt's body was suddenly set alight with a glow. A deep, powerful happiness. Kurt felt his tongue and moved his lips against Blaine's. The words moulded into thoughts, then to nothing as they stole them from each other. As they _moved_ within each other.

And Kurt knew all was forgiven.

* * *

'You _need_ to be educated,' Kurt finished. Karofsky was watching him, his eyes occasionally dodging away from him to his father in the hall. Kurt let his final words rest on the table before the monster. Something was pulling away inside, screaming for him to run. Run as fast as he could.

'Oh, man. Just kill me now.' Kurt refused to flinch at his words, said so lightly, yet so differently from earlier.

The way Karofsky had spoken before. The way his voice sounded so genuine, so inviting. It scared Kurt more than when he was being abusive. This was a trick. It had to be. But if there was the smallest chance it wasn't... The tiniest glimmer that, maybe...

Kurt's past bravado was fading fast. The way Karofsky was looking at him was unnerving. There was something behind the glaze of ignorance, something much deeper. Darker. It moved behind his eyes like a beast prowling behind cage bars. But Kurt looked away, tore himself from his tormentor, and looked at his father.

His heart leapt as he saw Finn was with him. Kurt felt a great surge of love and pride for his family as he watched them. Excitement and eagerness pooled in with his apprehension. He was able to come back. Come back to McKinley. Back to his friends. But away from Blaine. And back to Karofsky.

The cancer was back.

* * *

'You should've seen her! I know I said I missed everything, but does Rachel really need her animal jumpers to be _that_ depressing?'

Blaine seemed to be only half-listening to Kurt as they perused the romance/musical section of _Lima Videos. _Kurt continued berating Rachels dress-sense, but he couldn't help but notice the way Blaine had picked up the same film twice, and yet still had not even looked at it. He slipped his hand between his boyfriend's limp fingers.

'Everything okay?' Blaine seemed to shake himself out of his reverie, and turned to look at Kurt as though he were seeing him for the first time. Something stirred in Kurt as something passed across Blaine's face. Almost like he was _accusing _him of something.

'Yeah, fine,' Blaine retorted. Kurt squeezed his hand as the words hit harsher than Kurt hoped they were meant. Blaine seemed to notice this and leant in to kiss Kurt softly on the cheek. 'Don't worry about it, okay?'

'Okay, sure,' Kurt smiled. But something was off. Something wasn't in that kiss. They had looked at the DVD's for a further six minutes before Blaine spoke again;

'Kurt, do you remember that brown jacket you had?'

Confused, Kurt turned away from _Love, Actually _and looked at his boyfriend. He tried to read Blaine's expression, but he was being determinedly aloof. Overly casual and he seemed a little too interested in the box he was holding.

'Which one? I have _many _jackets. And which brown? The tan-block, or the maroon mocha?'

'You know, the brown one with the bluey leaves on it,' Blaine said lightly, his eyes suddenly flying up to meet Kurt's. Something angry was brewing beneath the words. 'You wore it not so long ago, when we went to the movies?'

Kurt felt like he was pushed into a part of the pool that was too deep for him. He couldn't _know_ about Sam. He was upstairs in the dorms when Sam delivered that pizza, and besides, Kurt had been extremely careful in going to and fro Sam's... lodgings.

'Oh, that old thing? I got too tall for it. Besides, it was last season anyway' Kurt replied airily. Funny, it almost didn't sound like a lie. But then again, a good one isn't supposed to, is it? 'What about it? Did you want to borrow it?'

'No, no...' Blaine's words trailed off as a light went out in his eyes. Kurt knew that probably, deep down, Blaine knew he was lying. But so what? He was just helping a friend out? 'No, I don't need it. I was just- it was just something a friend said.'

'What friend?' Kurt probed, feeling like he was after walking into a carefully laid trap. Blaine suddenly bounced back to normal, and gave Kurt a kiss, like all hadn't been said.

'Don't worry, it's nothing,' he beamed. But Kurt felt like something was slipping. Sand pouring down from the waist of an hour-glass.

* * *

**And trouble brews. I bet the last thing they need now is something starting up again to make Kurt distant and scared... That would not be good for the relationship. Would it? I hope that doesn't happen. **

**Hello again! Sorry this story has been on hiatus so long, but I was caught up in the series and I wanted to see where it was going before I continued. I love doing my own thing, and adore reading other fanfics, but I try to stay clear of completely AU fics; which includes writing my own. So now I am satisfied, the story will be continuing. :) **

**This chapter is mainly focusing on Klaine. Why? Because Klaine's amazing and as ADORABLE as it is, there isn't any angst. UNTIL NOW! I tried to make the Klaine as tragically romantic as possible. Feedback means extra long chapters, so pretty, pretty please? SPOILERS UP TO 2x19!**

**And if you fear it's too fluffly, wait until I finish the next chapter. ;)**

***(By the way; 2x17- Blaine going for Karofsky like that? Made me squee! Also inspired this chapter).**

**Thanks for sticking with me guys! I hope I can deliver as well as you deserve x**


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